


Kiss The Devil

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Freedom, Gen, Human/Vampire Relationship, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Imprisonment, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Rescue, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: Armand would gladly dance into hell itself, if it meant escaping that wretched place.





	Kiss The Devil

The man was older, but younger looking than most clients to come into the brothel.

He was... ethereal. Perfectly groomed blond hair, keen blue eyes, and dressed in a rich red coat, he seemed like someone who would be entertaining court ladies. Not someone who would be in a filthy hovel. Something was different about him, besides. He spent more time studying the artwork adorning the walls than he did Andrei’s body. No one had ever done that before.

“Very beautiful,” the stranger said with appreciation. “All signed by the same artist. Do you know them?”

Andrei opened his mouth, then shut it again. But this man looked to him with a gaze that seemed to see straight into Andrei’s mind, and he felt compelled to only tell the truth. Starting to shake, Andrei looked away. “I am the artist, sir. My name is Andrei.”

“Really? Such delicate work...” He turned from the paintings, walking towards Andrei. Lifting a hand, he trailed his fingers through Andrei’s red hair, smiling. “But perhaps it’s not a complete surprise, with one as stunning as you are, yourself. How is it you came to be here, hm?”

“I was stolen from my father when I was young.”

“When you were young?” The man chuckled. “You’re young yet, aren’t you?”

“No, sir.”

The man fell silent at Andrei’s flat reply, and the amusement in his eyes faded. He was so close that Andrei could feel the man’s breath on his lips. He could smell the hint of something sweet, like mint, and something deeper. Coppery. Blood? Andrei held very still, suddenly afraid, though he didn’t know why. The man slid his hand to Andrei’s cheek, drawing closer still. “Would you like to leave with me, Andrei? I could take you from here, if you liked. I could give you a home.”

Perhaps he should have been more cautious, but the boy already knew the answer. Moving his eyes to the door, Andrei mentally calculated the locations of the men keeping him captive. “If I wanted to... How will we get past them?”

“That has already been taken care of, my darling. You have nothing to fear.”

Andrei looked back to the man. There was a hungry look on that ageless face, and that... that was familiar. He knew what that look meant. So, this stranger wasn’t so different, after all. Still a man. But the stone floor was rough on Andrei’s weary legs, and the shackles cut into his wrists, and anything outside of those four walls... it couldn’t be much worse. Biting his lip, Andrei tried to calm his heartbeat; escape had never been so close at hand. “Will... will you let me paint?”

The man’s gaze softened. “As much as you like. I would love for you to paint for me.”

“Then please,” Andrei whispered. “Take me away from this place, and I will.”

Closing the space between them, the man draw Andrei into a kiss. Slow, long, gentle. Andre closed his eyes, sinking into the man’s embrace; his hands moved under Andrei’s shirt and oh, that skin was as smooth and cold as marble, but softer than any touch Andrei could remember. The fear melted away, even as he heard the sound of metal snapping and realized the man had broken Andrei’s chains like they’d been nothing but dry twigs. He stared up at the man, awe overtaking whatever worries remained.

“Who are you?”

The man picked Andrei off the floor, holding him in his arms as if Andrei weighed no more than a feather. He smiled, and Andrei saw that the man’s teeth were just a little too sharp. “My name is Marius,” he replied. “And I am your master now. Do you understand?”

Andrei felt his heart flutter. The man could be Satan himself; he would gladly be damned to hell, for the gift of freedom. He leaned in, kissing the man back and breathing a sigh of relief along the man’s ear. “Yes, Marius.”

Marius purred, moving to the door without speaking again. Andrei nestled in his arms, exhaling as they stepped out into the night.

For the first time in years, he saw the moon. It looked like the face of God.


End file.
